A week before finals, Pettigrew was still on the loose, annoying everyone greatly by having petrified everyone at least once (except Harry, who he seemed to be avoiding) and occasionally leaving graffiti messages around the school, warning people about the 'Heir'. These messages only served to irritate Filch, however, which in turn served to irritate everyone else because, really, who likes a cantankerous caretaker on the warpath? And Filch certainly seemed to take every painted message as a personal affront.
Harry was just on his way back from another grueling session of refusing to study for finals like everyone else and was feeling quite pleased that he'd managed to run away from the library the minute Hermione's back was turned. He glanced at the wall idly as he noticed there was a new message and then froze.
Their skeletons will lie in the Chamber forever.
Their? As in, more than one person he'd have to go rescue now? Harry groaned. He hated multi-people rescues. After all, the more people the more complaints he got for not doing it heroically enough and the more suspicions about how he somehow knew exactly what to do. Fortunately, he appeared to be the first one to have seen this new threat, or one of the first, anyway, as a lockdown hadn't been initiated yet. That gave him a little time.
He headed immediately to Lockhart's office.
"Professor, do you still have that rooster I sto-er, borrowed from Hagrid?" Harry demanded, barging right in and hoping Lockhart didn't have company.
Fortunately, Lockhart was alone. "Of course I do; you said it would allow us to slay the basilisk without actually risking our lives."
"Without unduly risking our lives," Harry corrected. "We are still dealing with a basilisk here and that is always very dangerous. On the other hand, we've lasted seven months with it running around and petrifying people every time we turn around, so we should be fine."
Lockhart nodded. "I've been petrified four times already; what's one more?"
"Exactly," Harry agreed. "Now, apparently at least two people have been taken down to the Chamber, possibly more. This means that that stupid Diary will also be down there and the students were taken hostage to lure me down there. I seem to have a reputation as a saving-people person," he explained.
"You don't say," Lockhart said dryly.
"Now, no matter what happens down there, I need you to stick to the plan. Things are probably going to get a little weird and chances are the perpetrator is really crazy. Just act like you know what you're doing, let me taunt them a little, and then the minute it looks like the basilisk is going to make an appearance, get the rooster to crow. I can take care of everything else," Harry said, pulling out his Invisibility Cloak.
"This looks valuable," Lockhart said, fingering the material longingly.
"It is," Harry said grimly. "It's also an heirloom, so don't even think about it. Besides, I have two dozen people who can vouch that I do, in fact, own this and I'm not telling you who, so you wouldn't be able to get them all. Now get under it so we can go."
"Fine…" Lockhart sighed, looking disappointed but doing as Harry asked.
They silently proceeded to Myrtle's bathroom and pointedly ignored Dumbledore's announcement that everyone was to return to their Common Rooms. Once they had arrived, Harry went straight to the sinks to search for the serpent scratched on the surface of one of them while Lockhart talking Myrtle into letting him autograph her stall. Harry was really starting to wonder if it was actually possible for his vain professor to go longer than twenty minutes without feeling the need to sign something.
"Hey, I found it," Harry called out. "Open."
Lockhart came over and peered into the darkness uncertainly. "Please tell me you can make stairs appear."
"How could I possibly make stairs appear?" Harry asked logically. "I don't have a bloody manual, you know. Besides, if there were stairs to be had, why in the world wouldn't they be here already? The fact you need to speak Parseltongue to get this far should mean that Slytherin wouldn't bother to make the stairs only appear if you ask for them. He's supposed to be more sensible than Gryffindor, after all."
"If you say so…But really, what's down there? We have no way of knowing how far down it is and it's probably filthy." Lockhart wrinkled his nose at the thought.
Harry sighed. Seriously, they had bigger problems than sanitation right now. Like the two-possibly-more hostages down in the Chamber with Pettigrew and Voldemort's Horcrux. "Tell you what," he said finally. "You jump down and I'll cast a cushioning charm to soften the fall."
"That won't help with whatever dirt or grime that has got to be down there after a thousand years or so," Lockhart pointed out.
"Well that's the best you're going to get, so I suggest you take it," Harry growled. God, this was taking longer than just threatening him, as he and Ron had done last time.
"But I have to look my best for when we're done with this and return triumphantly to Dumbledore and the Media," Lockhart protested.
"The grime will add authenticity," Harry shot back.
"But-"
"Just go," Harry said, shoving him down into the darkness and casting a quick cushioning charm, like he promised. "That does remind me, though." He took out his mirror. "Oi, Sirius."
"What?" Sirius asked. Harry could barely hear him as the sound of laughter and music was loud in the background.
"I-Where are you?" Harry asked, listening to the voices going on around his errant godfather. "I don't recognize the accents."
"That's because I'm in Vegas," Sirius explained as if it were obvious.
"Vegas? You're in America?" Harry sputtered. "What are you doing there?"
"Gambling," Sirius said patiently. "Well, that and…but you're really too young for that."
"I'm twenty-four," Harry said irritably, crossing his arms.
"Exactly, far too young," Sirius agreed. "I, however, am thirty-seven, since we seem to be counting both timelines, and that's plenty old enough."
"Sirius, you…you know what, never mind," Harry said, shaking his head. "Listen, I need you to send a message to the Daily Prophet that two students were taken to the Chamber of Secrets."
Sirius blinked. "Any particular reason?"
"You mean other than the fact that fact that at least two students were taken to the Chamber of Secrets?" Harry asked innocently.
"Frankly, yes. You've been working all year to keep this quiet, remember? Why do you want to blow all that now?"
"Because everything is coming to a head and I want proof when I capture Pettigrew," Harry told him.
"You think you'll manage that?" Sirius asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.
"I'd better," Harry said fiercely. "But listen, I've got to go. I left Lockhart alone down there and if I don't hurry up he'll probably wander off, somehow manage to annoy Voldemort's Horcrux, and get himself killed."
"Just so we're clear: that would be a bad thing?" Sirius asked innocently.
"Of course it would be; a death on my watch would be a huge blow for my reputation as resident hero!" Harry exclaimed. "Bye." Harry turned around to see Myrtle staring at him. "What?"
"You have issues," she told him seriously.
Harry rolled his eyes as he took out his Nimbus 2000 and unshrunk it. Maybe it wasn't technically fair that he made Lockhart jump down when he had a broom the whole time, but really, Lockhart really should have been more prepared. Not to mention that Harry wasn't sure that Lockhart even COULD fly. After all, if he could, then he probably would carry a broom around with him at all times just so he could escape any situation if need be, seeing as how he was a dreadful coward.
When Harry landed besides Lockhart, the professor was dusting his robes off and trying vainly to look presentable. "You had a BROOM the whole time?" At Harry's nod, he shot Harry a murderous look and started off down the tunnel.
"Sorry," Harry offered half-heartedly as he ran to catch up with him. "Lumos."
When they finally reached the main Chamber, a very different sight greeted them than last time. Instead of Ginny lying on the floor by the statue of Slytherin, Pettigrew lay prone.
"Do you think there's any point in stunning him?" Harry wondered aloud.
"I really don't think you need to bother," Lockhart said, peering over at Pettigrew. "He doesn't look like he's going to be going anywhere anytime soon."
"Yeah, I guess so," Harry agreed reluctantly. "On the other hand, he is insanely good at evading capture."
"Wow, he can elude a preteen, he must be a criminal mastermind," Lockhart muttered, still obviously sore about Harry letting him get dirty when he technically didn't need to.
"You know, I only had the one broom," Harry said defensively. "And it's not like I even knew that today would be the day until I saw the writing on the wall."
Lockhart studiously pretended not to hear him, deciding instead to risk entering the room further.
"Harry!"
Harry's head shot in the direction of the voice. "Ginny? What are you doing here? Oh, hi Luna." Somehow it was less jarring to see Luna in the Chamber than Ginny, although Harry wasn't sure if that was because of Luna's penchant for getting into strange situations or because the odds of Ginny getting taken down to the Chamber AGAIN was astronomically small.
"We were just on our way back from visiting the Thestrals when a short bald man ambushed us, muttering something about how he's getting too old for this and felt vaguely like a pervert for kidnapping two young girls and then I think he stunned us because we just woke up a couple of minutes ago," Luna explained.
"For the record, I am never going to go visit the Thestrals with you ever again," Ginny said decisively.
"That's hardly fair," Luna objected. "He seemed to be waiting for you and took me just because I was there; if anything I should be the one who doesn't want to spend time with you anymore."
"It's not because of the kidnapping, Luna," Ginny sighed. "It's just that I can't actually see your creepy zombie horses and so going there and watching you pet them and feed them raw steak and seeing it get ripped apart by creatures I can't see is just kind of weird and not really my thing."
"Oh." Luna paused for a second. "You could always watch somebody die," she suggested.
"Luna!" Ginny exclaimed scandalized. "I can't do that!"
"Why not?" Luna asked reasonably. "Just go to St. Mungo's and ask them for help. People are always dying there."
"That's not a very good recommendation for a magical hospital," Harry interjected.
Luna just shrugged. "The more you know about magic, the less you tend to know about medicine, so it's great for injuries, but if you ever have any illnesses - particularly Muggle ones – you're out of luck. But of course, the more you know about magic, the less you tend to respect Muggle treatments."
"That is really depressing," Harry said flatly.
Another shrug. "It's the atmosphere."
"He won't wake," said a soft voice.
Harry looked over to see Lockhart nudging Pettigrew gingerly with his foot.
"I don't really care if he wakes up; I just need him alive," Harry replied. "Come to think of it, I don't even need him alive, do I? I just need him nice and unexploded."
"I'm fairly sure he's still alive," Lockhart called out helpfully.
"Yes, he is," Tom Riddle agreed. "For now."
"Why in the world are you killing the one guy stupid enough to follow you even when you're nothing but a disembodied spirit? And you're not even that, are you? You're just a Diary filled with plenty of teenage angst."
Riddle glared at Harry but didn't respond, instead twirling Lockhart's wand between his fingers. Why in the world had Lockhart set that down? This was going to make it harder. Although, on the bright side, it wasn't a compatible wand so Riddle wouldn't be able to use it as effectively as he'd used Harry's.
"I do hope you plan on taking me seriously, Harry Potter," Riddle said. "Wormtail told me you don't do that often, but I've waited a long time for this, for the chance to see you, speak to you."
"If you want to know how I survived the Killing Curse, the answer is 'none of your business'," Harry replied politely.
"I don't think you quite understand," Riddle said slowly. "I am going to kill you. That is inevitable and nothing you can do will change that. Wormtail will also die. I need his life-force to bring myself into reality. Those two young girls, however, don't have to die. I will kill them, though, and slowly, if you do not give me the information I need."
"If you're planning on killing me anyway, then what's it matter how I survived the Killing Curse? Just use a different spell," Harry suggested, eyeing the wand in Riddle's hand warily and wondering if perhaps it wasn't the best idea to goad Voldemort's young self to kill him.
"Do you have any idea how boring it was, having to listen to the silly little troubles of such a silly little man? He'd been writing in the Diary for months, telling me all his pitiful worries and woes: how Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban and was going to kill him, how he might convince Remus Lupin of the truth about what happened to the Potters, how he couldn't even reveal himself to be alive without proving a traitor, how every one of my follower's would see him dead leading to my downfall, how no matter what he tried, he just couldn't get that basilisk to kill someone."
"Well, I'm sorry you were bored," Harry deadpanned. "Though, seriously, if that's the worse inconvenience you had, you're pretty lucky. Last year, you had to put up with stuttering. All year. I swear, it was giving me migraines and I only ever saw Quirrell during class." He paused. "The headaches might have actually had something to do with the face you were on the back of his head, but let's not quibble."
"Why won't you take me seriously?" Riddle demanded, wand-arm twitching.
"Because you're a bastion of teenage angst," Harry said simply. "I already said that. On the other hand, a basilisk, now THAT'S serious. I might even go so far as to say it is frightening. Of course, if you're not going to summon it and just want to have a nice chat, then I can work with that, too. It will involve a lot more sarcasm and questioning just how badass a person is if they write in a Diary."
"I become the most feared wizard of all time!" Riddle retorted. "And I'm a bloody mass murderer!"
"I'll give you the mass murderer thing," Harry said. "But the whole effect is ruined by the fact that you keep a Diary. I mean, honestly, what's with that? It's like 'Dear Diary, today I went and slaughtered an entire village of Muggles. Aren't I diabolical? And no, I am in no way compensating for the fact that my father abandoned my mother before I was born. And no, said father was not a Muggle, where are these dreadful accusations coming from? They are distinctly not fabulous.'"
"Stop that," Riddle ordered, his face red with fury.
"And as for the whole 'most feared wizard of all time' thing, there's just no way. I mean, seriously. You may terrify everyone now, but that's just a generational thing. Before you, everyone was scared of Grindelwald and God knows there were countless before him. And everyone knows Dumbledore is more well-respected than you anyway."
"I was going to let your little girlfriends live, Potter, but you've pushed me too far. Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four," Riddle hissed.
"Wow, he had a huge ego. I wonder if he had to say that when he was visiting the Chamber," Harry mused.
"Is it time, yet?" Lockhart whispered, coming to stand beside Harry.
"Almost," Harry said quietly. "Close your eyes and I'll tell you when. Hey, Luna, Ginny, you guys better close your eyes, too. Even if you only get petrified, now's really not the best time for that."
Harry waited until he heard Riddle his, "Kill them. Kill them all."
"Now," he breathed.
A few moments later, he heard unmistakable sound of a rooster crowing and a loud thump as something heavy hit the floor. Harry chanced a look through his mirror and saw that the basilisk was dead. Fortunately, its eyes were also closed, so Harry wasn't even petrified. Did basilisks eyes kill and/or petrify when they were dead? Harry was glad he didn't have to find out. And come to think of it, why in the world was meeting a basilisk's gaze such a dangerous thing to do in the first place? He'd have to remember to ask Hermione. Or, if she didn't know, Dumbledore. Or maybe Hagrid. Surely someone, somewhere, would have an answer for him.
"NO!" Riddle cried, interrupting his musing, and, for some reason, still speaking in Parseltongue. "You will pay for this, you-"
"Oh give it up, already," Harry said, annoyed. He turned to Lockhart. "Did you grab the Diary?"
Lockhart nodded. "Of course," he said, handing it over.
"Excellent," Harry beamed, putting on some dragon-hide gloves and feeling quite fortunate he had had Potions earlier that day. "Accio basilisk fang."
"What are you doing?" Riddle demanded, abruptly switching over to English.
"I'm destroying your Diary," Harry told him bluntly as he caught the fang.
"But…you can't!" Riddle protested desperately, moving towards them.
"You're too old for these things and given you're status as self-proclaimed 'scariest wizard ever', it's quite frankly embarrassing that you still have this. It's for your own good, really," Harry said mockingly as he drove the fang through the Diary.